


a night, not out of the ordinary

by Larrant



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: @_@, Fluff, M/M, drunk kylo is best kylo, drunk kylo is drunk, drunk kylo is happy kylo, drunk kylo is slightly ooc kylo, guys see i can do it, happy!kylo needs to be a thing, i can write fluff, i edited this so its more presentable, it's rewritten a bit too, kylo is a lightweight, kylo shouldn't get drunk, like one of those au tags, merry christmas haha, so you can read it again and you'll like it more, what did this additional tags page turn into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrant/pseuds/Larrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was debatable whether either of them could have realized what a lightweight Kylo was before they started drinking."</p><p>inspired by that one post on tumblr<br/>edit: i found the post http://timegoddessrose.tumblr.com/post/135914829209/nine-words-that-will-melt-and-destroy-your-kylux</p>
            </blockquote>





	a night, not out of the ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> it was 12 AM when i wrote this, and i couldn't be bothered to rewrite all of this today, so have a rather shitty christmas present  
> also where is that post on tumblr again  
> er  
> i will edit this with where it was when i find it  
> herpderp

 

 

It’s Life Day, and the celebrations reflect across from Coruscant to Kaas in bright fireworks and festivals of red and green- in some distant capital world, a child is tugging at his parent's lekku, demanding to be held higher to see the fireworks in all their resplendent colours. And far away from that, in Bastion, in a room that faces tall skyscrapers and black towers, well, perhaps there is just a little of that sentiment reflected.

 

When you drink, you drink one shot, and the room looks fine. Well, that’s probably natural. It's only one. Two. And, that’s fine too. Three. Four. Five. Everything’s kind of fine. Maybe?

 

Eventually though, when you stop counting shots, things start to get slightly hazy- lights grow and then dim, and you’re not _quite_ certain at what point everything seems to become so much more in focus. But right now you know everything seems to be so much more in focus. Like, for instance, the light that reflects off Hux's angled features, so sharply defined that he thinks it might not even be natural.

 

Kylo reflects on that as he takes another long sip of the wine- it tastes notably more pleasant than it did fifteen minutes ago, and he blinks in a way that suggests someone very deep in thought, perhaps contemplating on the very meaning of life itself. Not that one should be found. Or maybe it can be.

 

Opposite him and a little too close (but that was probably the fault of the chairs and the desk) Hux swirls the wine in his glass and takes another sip of the liquid. It’s a very refined motion, or that’s what Kylo thinks anyway as he stares, unabashedly watching Hux as he drinks- there's something like fascination in the way he watches the General, curiousity that dances in every flicker of his gaze. There’s only the barest flush to his features, unlike with Kylo, a softening to the man's normally harsh edges that even suggests he’s drunk.

 

It was debatable whether either of them could have realized what a lightweight Kylo was before they started drinking. But they’re only a bit more than an hour in, and while Hux has relaxed from his normal stiffness, Kylo is... well, who knows. He’s already somebody he won’t quite remember in the morning.

 

For the best, really.

 

In introspect, it’s not exactly standard protocol that has resulted in Ren and Hux being this way, sat on two chairs drinking Corellian wine deep into the night- or perhaps it is like protocol, in that unconventional way when practices start to form and you realize you’re incapable of stopping them because they've already developed.

 

So maybe it’s routine after all. Or at least,  _they’re_ routine, and there’s nothing that separates it from normalcy- they go back to Hux's quarters and sometimes they sit and drink, and most times they just fuck.

 

In all of the cases above, the former will proceed to the latter within fifteen minutes or so. Usually less.

 

It’s an arrangement that suits them- a direly needed release of pent-up stress that neither of them generally see fit to deal with using subordinates or shady nighttime bars. It changed nothing in the dynamics between them outside the bedroom. The drinking part was a habit that only really derived from Hux’s insistence.

 

Still, when the General invited him in just for drinks, he had only hesitated for a moment.

 

At the time it had toed the fine line between a potentially good idea and a horrible one. He had been aware of the sentiment brewing between them for a time then, had dismissed it in the hope it would go away if he was ignored- but really, that was something like what the Jedi preached, pretending that something didn't exist like it would make it disappear. He should have known it wouldn't turn out well. Right now of course, he’s barely thinking about ideas at all.

 

In a less roundabout manner of stating things, he's completely and utterly _smashed_.

 

When Hux puts down his glass to refill it, there’s a reason why Kylo leans forward and tries to kiss the man. A good reason. He just needs to figure it out later. Or maybe he did figure it out, but he just forgot it.

 

There’s something like a shocked intake of breath from Hux when their lips connect- maybe it’s because they don’t ever kiss when they fuck, and maybe this counts as a first kiss?- but he doesn’t break the contact, so that surely counts as a victory. Hux's lips are soft like a girl's (it's a little unexpected, but at the same time he thinks that it fits) and Kylo hums low in his throat, pleased, before he pulls away.

 

You could call him an affectionate drunk.

 

A pause then, when he looks at the man. Hux is looking back, something in his eye that Kylo can’t decipher- he wonders if he should ask what it is, and then before Kylo can pull away completely the man's reached reached out, unprompted to grasp at the side of Kylo’s face, run a thumb across his cheek. Almost without thinking, he leans in to the touch.

 

There’s a twitch of what could be a smile on those cool features- maybe if Kylo wasn't drunk, he might call it fond. Or condescending. Or maybe both. “You’re drunk.”

 

Well, that could have been true. And an unnecessary statement, really. But before he can open his mouth to deny it, the touch has brushed over the sensitive tissue of the barely healed scar on his face, runs across the bridge of his nose and down the curves of the inflamed mark, and the foreign sensation of it makes him shiver.

 

The disfigurement is something he knows is ugly, and even in his drunken state, he wants to reach up a hand and push Hux's fingers away- but all the man does is brush the pad of his thumb down the angry scar, expression unreadable, and before he can do anything there are lips on his and a tongue in his mouth that is decidedly not his- and that stifles any protest that might remain.

 

Hux tastes of something like wintermint and wine, rich and deep, and he leans in without thinking, tries to taste more- for a moment he sort of regrets the fact that there's a table between them with expensive wine that shouldn't be spilled. In the next moment he's forgotten that altogether. He muffles a whimper when he realizes the proximity between them, the sudden awareness of the heat that seems to radiate off Hux and seems to burn his skin when they touch- and the need that kindles low in his belly is something unexpected that makes him want to surge forwards and fuck the General against the closest hard surface available. It sounds like a good idea, at least.

 

So of course, he tries to.

 

But as is inevitable with people who are as drunk as they are, or as Kylo is, ‘he tries to’. He surges forwards-

 

-limbs unbalanced, and knocks them both into a heap onto the ground.

 

Aha.

 

A little bit winded because drunk people generally are, he’s suddenly staring down into the very much startled eyes of his General. Huh. He hadn't really foreseen that one. He _does_ however, foresee the inevitable 'get off' before it actually comes- there's that irritated furrow in Hux's brow, the opening of his mouth in what is definitely not going to be something pleasant, and so before the first syllable even comes, he rolls them over so that Hux is on top instead.

 

That's sort of like the same thing. Even if it probably wasn't what Hux meant.

 

(Ah, the floor’s cold, he thinks, but then he doesn’t notice that so much when there’s a such a warm body on top of him)

 

They lie like that for a moment, just looking at each other- and Hux is looking more exasperated than irritated, a little resigned. He still looks pretty.

 

He blinks, before he tilts his head up again and kisses the man, awkwardly bumping noses as he does. It's only natural to after all. The kiss is something soft, something that a portion of his brain still says should not be between them, but he finds himself putting that out of mind, smiling faintly before he lets his head fall back onto the carpet.

 

The situation would feel absurd if he wasn’t drunk. Instead he simply feels content.

 

“You know,” he smiles vaguely, words something between a slur and a murmur. There's a pause then, a hesitation as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. Well, he has the time, his hands are still firmly latched on to Hux, so that's like extra insurance just in case the man gets impatient.

 

Drunk as he is on wine and the sight of Hux- bright eyed and oddly silent as he watches Kylo, waiting for whatever he's going to say next, the Sith finds himself justified in reaching upwards an unsteady hand, twining his fingers in the soft hair and tugging the man closer, burying his face into the immaculately combed hair and breathing in its scent.

 

There’s a mumble from where Hux’s face is buried in his neck.

 

He wonder how to phrase it, what to call it exactly, the words that he wants to say, and eventually settles on a way of saying it that seems to make sense to his intoxicated mind. It probably won’t make sense to Hux at all.

 

“Ben Solo,” he starts, and the name passes through his lips more easily than he would have expected it to if he was sober. But he’s drunk, and the name is far, far too natural as it falls from his tongue- nevermind that Hux won't even know who it is, that it belongs to Kylo at all. He smiles again, and this time it could almost be sad, “He would have fallen in love with you.”

 

There's probably something else he says after that too, but it's gets lost a little in the haze- Hux has indeed presumably gotten too impatient of the Sith's drunken antics, and decides to move them on to more productive matters.

 

Kylo's all too happy to oblige.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys. leave a comment? leave a kudos? =D?  
> tumblr: itsakylo.tumblr.com  
> (i changed it a couple of days ago haha)


End file.
